


Bloodsport

by armnin



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: (of course), 1950s AU, 1950s Slang, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cannibalism, First Time, Fugitives, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Minor Character Deaths, Murder Husbands, Murder cases, PTSD Will, Possessive Hannibal, Sad parts, Trust Issues, Will after being in WWII, cute 1950s will, cute 50s attire, hannibal speaking his foreign language, homophobic undertones (i wont make it extreme but it is the 1950s), maybe some faked deaths, probably car sex who knows, resolved issues (in an odd way), suave as fuck hannibal, tbh idek im just gonna go with it, will doesnt understand foreigners, will thinks his accent is hot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:37:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4739924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armnin/pseuds/armnin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just five years after fighting in World War II, Will is fresh out of the 1950 graduating class of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Even with PTSD, his hidden desire for danger and destruction leads him to working in the field of crime investigating. Upon the publication of the first official list of Top Ten Most Wanted Fugitives, a cunning foreigner from Lithuania is hired to work on the strange and terrifying  murder case of Cassie Boyle. Will is forced to accept the doctor and his annoying tendencies to analyze him. Soon, Will realizes that he is far more than simply intrigued by the mastermind that is Hannibal Lecter as he comes to terms with his unrequited thirst for murder and attractive foreign men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Foreigner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will meets the pretentious Hannibal Lecter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I've been trying to think of an AU to occupy me while I mourn the ending of Hannibal. :"-( My fingers are still crossed in hope that they will be able to revive the show somehow! Anyway, I hope this AU is intriguing and that you guys will like it! This is my first official Hannibal fanfic even though I've been with the show since it started. (talk about procrastination) The beginning sticks pretty close to the first episode of Hannibal, but believe me it will definitely drive off into its own path soon! Again I hope you all like it and thank you so much for reading, please feel free to comment! xoxo

    Like most soldiers who survived the second World War, the inescapable hauntings of visceral acts that can't be unseen nor forgotten drift through Will's mind consistently. Every memory is like an itch that can't quite be reached, a problem unsolvable by any circumstance due to its gruesomely unique qualities. It's not every day you wake up to the stench of rotting flesh and open wounds in a muddy,cramped trench filled three feet deep with rain water, rats, dead bodies, and a wide variety of bodily fluids. Although for a great deal of men, that is how they spent their last. The constant vomit inducing smell of death never quite leaves the mind, even long after it has left the nostrils. For Will Graham, that stench was still part of his everyday life after the war, thankfully without the company of trenches or the constant sound of bullets tearing through skin tissue; those parts remained expertly sewn into the fabric of his nightmares.

    With every smell of dirt comes the reminder of how it feels to have it sitting, undigested, in your stomach on nights that were scarce of food. The grains of mud and grime scraping your teeth and in bedding into your gums. The foul taste was nothing compared to the reminder that there would be less mouths to feed tomorrow. Every sight of red, no matter the hue, materializes into the deep crimson liquid of a man who had just bled to death on your lap. All these ghastly, horrendous  memories, and yet Will finds himself fresh out of the graduating class of the 1950 Federal Bureau of Investigation.

    Coincidentally, this is the same year that the first official list of Top Ten Most Wanted Fugitives was released. The idea of it spiked an interest in Will; a list made it feel as though crime was turned into some sort of international competition. Surely there would be competitors with an appetite for being number one, relentlessly adding to the participants of human induced bloodsport.

    This suspicion was proven right as newspapers struggled to release the latest on Maryland's new murder case. Although each death often soon loses its moment of fame when another new name is listed in the obituary, this particular case struck the media with a shocking and unnerving twist. Cassie Boyle now lived, in another sense, in black ink on newspapers and case files across the country. The murder scene was repugnant and artistically crafted unlike any seen before.

    What struck Will the most was that the body wasn't hastily hidden or apologetically tucked back into a bed like the previous victims; it was openly on display, the cold corpse of a young girl stretched out to the sky above her in an open field. Her body pierced with long, spindly antlers and chest void of lungs. He knew right away that this wasn't the same person who had killed those other girls. No, this was someone else's doing, a mockery of the original culprit.

    With the new case came, to Will's utter surprise and  bitter tinge of dislike, a new member to the team. His thick Lithuanian accent and sharp features caught Will's attention, but his habit of analyzing anything within sight grinded Will's patience into a petty small thing.

    "Will, meet our new ace on the case, Hannibal Lecter."  the foreigner was dressed in a well fitted suit, his Sunday hat snug between his arm and ribcage. He held his elegant hand out to Will, who shook it firmly, taking note of the man's soft and well treated skin. His hand, unlike Will's, was free of any blemishes and scrubbed clean all the way to the spaces underneath his fingernails. He looked overall flawless and freshly pressed.

    They took a seat in Crawford's office, Hannibal's image of a mellow man in Will's eyes shattering the moment he parted his lips.

    "Your posture is tense and you seem uneasy. Forgive me if I am mistaken, but the scar on your left cheek looks like a graze from a bullet. May I assume you were a participant in the war?" Will wasn't sure if directness was a foreign trait or if he was being too sensitive, but the feeling of being poked and prodded under Hannibal's sharp gaze was not welcomed.

    "Not that it's your business, but yes, I was." Hannibal raised a brow, his sunken eyes apologetic in a way that didn't quite match the cold air he let off.

   "Please forgive me, I am simply surprised to see a man who has suffered in the battlefield serve in such a morbid field of work. Perhaps you crave the dark undertones?"

    Will gritted his teeth, his hands balling into fists and muscles tensing. Hannibal ran his gaze over the length of Will's body, his face lacking any emotion before focusing back to a pair of tired blue eyes. "Perhaps I don't like being psychoanalyzed, Doctor Lecter." Hannibal was smiling; the smile didn’t necessarily reach his lips, but it shown in a mocking sense through his eyes and relaxed posture.

    “My apologies, Mr. Graham, I look forward to working with you. I’ve heard many brilliant stories about your abilities.” the thought of working alongside a stingy foreigner didn’t sit well with Will, but the small fraction of him that was optimistic reasoned that a well skilled analyzer would be good for solving a bizarre case such as this one.

   “Doctor?” Will asked suddenly, the title pegging him the moment Jack said it before addressing the man’s name. Hannibal reclined his head slightly, seeming amused that he has sparked an interest in the younger.

    “Previously a surgeon, but now a forensic psychiatrist.” he informed, his smile finally reaching his lips. Even then, his eyes seemed to smile more than his mouth. Will nodded, feeling a little more relieved with the help of another person on the case. Still, something about the doctor was off putting to Will. It wasn’t the general oddness of anyone who enjoyed working in the field of crime solving, no, it was deeper than that. He felt like prey in the eyes of a predator, but foreigners were rare and for all Will knows everyone from Lithuania could be like this.

    Hannibal stood, buttoning his overcoat and suit. It was then Will realized he forgot to unbotton his own suit before sitting down, a severe lack of manners that he never quite picked up on. Will stood, accepting the open hand and shaking it once more. Hannibal then placed his hat onto his head, nodding at both Will and Jack.

    “It was a pleasure meeting you and I’m sure it will be a pleasure working with you.” he then turned directly to Will, “Mr. Graham, please accept my apologies, I hope we did not get off on the wrong foot.” Will tried to smile out of politeness, but it felt too forced and artificial.

    “Apology accepted.” he said, looking down at Hannibal’s overpriced shoes instead of his face. With that, Hannibal walked elegantly out of the room. Will looked back up, his eyes meeting with Jack’s. He looked amused, unlike Will who looked like he swallowed a bad cup of coffee.

 **  
**_“I like him already.”_ **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was okay for a first chapter, although it was brief. I will try to add a chapter at least once a week! xoxo Thank you!~


	2. A Much Needed Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawford makes Will take a week off from work due to his malnourished and tired state. Will gets an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this chapter moves along slluggishly, I'll work harder on not trying to be so wordy! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I think it's pretty cute! Also, I apologize for any mistakes, I don't have anyone to read over it for me so please understand~ Thank you!

     Will awoke from his nightmare, sweat drenched undergarments sticking uncomfortably to his skin. His breathing is shallow as he tries to ignore the fact that he's shaking uncontrollably. He wrestles out of his garments, flinging them to the floor with disdain as he walks shakily to the bathroom. He can't even remember what he had dreamt about, but Will doesn't make any attempts at prying into the matter as he rinses his face with cold water.

 

     He allows the liquid to trickle down his neck and drip onto his chest, the faucet water mingling with the drying sweat that coats his body. He stares at his reflection, eyes focusing on the obvious purple veins that stretched underneath the thin skin of his lids and under his eyes; it made him look near death. His severe lack of sound sleep and nutrition made him ache, but he has no time to dawdle on these things before work. 

 

     Will turns the knob of his new shower, waiting a few minutes for the water to warm up. He glances back at his reflection, running his fingers over the stubble that peppered his face and neck. He decides against shaving, never quite liking the hype of a hairless face. Will is far from the epitome of human decency, but part of that meant not caring, so he doesn't. 

 

     The water is scalding, enough to pinken his skin just by being near it let alone enduring its touch. It stings his flesh and makes him flinch, but just thinking of the bone chilling winter that awaits him outside makes him wish the water could be hotter. He closes his eyes, feeling the tap begin to lose its heat factor already as he allows it to pour over his face. 

 

     The sudden image of a yellow field is vivid behind his lids. The same field where Cassie Boyle's mutilated body was discovered. Will is sure he had dreamt about it, but he quickly focuses his attention on washing his hair rather than what ghastly things his mind developed in its unconscious state.

 

     Will was just about to rinse his hair when the water went as frigid as the ice outside. He grunts disapprovingly, moving his body out of the wintry stream but keeping his head in to rid his locks of any remaining suds. He makes a mental note to repair the hot water valve, annoyed but thankful that he actually has hot water now. When he first purchased his home for a deal of just below a grand, there was no running water and a decaying outhouse instead of a bathroom. 

 

     Will continues his morning routine groggily, downing two cups of bitter, watery coffee and lazily attempting to dry his hair with a damp towel. His suit, he notices, is loose on his thinning frame. He can't recall the last time he went to the grocery, not particularly worrying about it. All this time, his dogs follow his movements with expectant eyes. They wait patiently, with the exception of Winston, who follows at Will's heels until he lays out their bowls of food. 

 

     Will pockets a small amount of change, no more than two quarters, in case he needs to make a stop at the gas station on his way to work. 

 

* * *

 

     When Will enters Crawford's office, he quickly realizes Jack is void of the room and Doctor Lecter is in his place. Hannibal's focus leaves the cluttered desk, his eyes holding something in them that makes Will stir uncomfortably when their gazes meet. 

 

     "William Graham, if I may be so able to address." Will shook his head, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets. "Will is fine." Hannibal smiles, stepping out from behind the desk to hold out his hand, "Good morning, Will."

 

     Will shook it, Lecter's skin unsettlingly neutral. It wasn't warm nor cold, but more so the same temperature as the room, like he was an object and not a living vessel of blood and veins. Will couldn't remember if it was like this yesterday, but something about Hannibal's touch seems to linger on his skin, even long after their hands departed. It is a foreign feeling, just as the man himself, and Will dislikes the unfamiliarity. 

 

     When he focuses his eyes back to where Hannibal was, a tall, skeletal, and spindly creature stood in his place. The skin was charred black, and tall thin antlers stretched from the thing's skull. Its face was no doubt the doctor's, his eyes steady on Will with an appetite for bloodshed. Will stumbles back, sucking in a sharp intake of breathe as his elbow collides with the file cabinet behind him. 

 

     The creature approaches closer, its expression one of concern and mild confusion, "Will? Is everything alright? You look fevered." Will shook his head, reaching for the paperweight on the cabinet. Just as he grasps it, a hand clamps down firmly on his wrist. When Will's eyes focus again, Hannibal is standing less than a foot away with a heavily concerned look edged into the lines of his face. 

 

     "You aren't trying to hurt me, are you Will?" something in the man's voice sounded divert and Will swears he saw a smile curled into the thin line of Lecter's lips. Will looks at the weight in his hand, then at Hannibal's fingers around his wrist, and allows the heavy glass cube to roll from his palm. Hannibal doesn't release Will, instead moving his thumb to run over the thin skin covering his deep blue veins. 

 

     "Your pulse is racing, you are not well, Will." the younger shook his head, tearing his hand from Hannibal's grip. "I'm fine, just...tired." 

 

     It is then that Jack Crawford enters the cramped office, a brow raised in question at the odd expressions of both men. Hannibal takes a swift step back, motioning for Jack to follow him into the hall. Will didn't bother trying to listen to the conversation, the horrid image of that creature crawling into every chasm of his mind. 

 

     Will realizes the thing was in his nightmare just as Crawford re-enters the room. "Will, you look awful and from what I just heard, you need some sleep. Go home, take the week off, and for God's sake, eat something." Will scoffs, throwing his hands up into the air as if that would clear up any misunderstandings. 

 

     "I'm fi-" 

     "Go. _Now._ " Will feels bewildered and betrayed, looking to Hannibal who was staring at him like cat watching a caged bird. The sympathy on his face is obviously artificial and Will has to press his lips into a tight line before he starts screaming at him. 

 

     He ignores the sympathetic stares of Beverly as he storms past her, blood boiling and muscles trembling from weakness. He feels like he's going to pass out as he rushes into his Ford, slamming the door shut to escape the sharp teeth of winter that sunk into his skin through his overcoat. 

 

     The hour long drive home is one cent short of miserable, Will's stomach aching for food and his eyes struggling to stay alert. It's a wonder he doesn't pass out at the wheel. 

 

     Will's dogs are surprised to see him home so soon, growls and sharp teeth baring at him before they quickly realize it's not an intruder. He pats a few of them on the head apologetically, shuffling past the sea of mutts as he makes his way towards the near empty kitchen. He reaches for a glass in the cabinet, filling it to the brim with water and chugging it down hastily. 

 

     The refrigerator only contains a few rotted stalks of celery and carrots along with some expired glasses of milk. Will sighs, telling himself he'll go shopping tomorrow. He's relieved no one from work is over, knowing he'd get a heavy hand to his back as Jack or someone would mention Will's need for a house wife to cook for him. He has no desire for such, knowing he isn't mentally capable for a relationship anyway. 

 

     He pries at his suit, taking off his coat and allowing his suspenders to slip from his shoulders and trousers to slowly sink from their hold around his small waist. He kicks them off once they pooled down at his ankles, leaving his socks on. Next comes the shirt, which he fumbles with to unbutton before flinging it aside. He grabs a long sleeved robe from its hook on his bedroom door, hugging it around himself and tying it loosely. Nearly the instant his head collides with his pillow, he is asleep. 

 

* * * 

 

     The sharp yelping of his dogs awakens Will from his sleep before a nightmare could, his mind fogged and sluggish. Winston darts across his room, jumping onto the bed to alert him of a visitor at the door. Will furrows his brow, checking the clock at his bedside. The time was 9:34 P.M., and Will is shocked to know he had slept soundly for almost the entire day. The lack of food no doubt helped as his body had little to run on besides watered down coffee. 

 

     He hears a sharp knock on his door, the dogs erupting into their second chorus that is much too loud for Will's groggy state. He clumsily gets off his bed, feeling the cold wintry air that seeps through his window sills and cracked walls. Once he's to the door, another knock sounds just before he opens it. 

 

     Hannibal Lecter stands at Will's doorstep, his nose tinged pink and body bundled in a thick winter coat. He nods at Will as an alternative to a handshake, his gloved hands occupied by a pot of what Will assumes to be food. He was still having a hard time piecing together the current moment, questioning whether he was really awake. 

 

     "I'm deeply sorry if I have disturbed you from sleep, but I feel I am due on giving an apology. May I come in?" Will stares at the doctor for longer than would be considered polite, confusion written into the furrow of his brows and frown on his lips. A gust of cold air wakes his mind further and Will moves aside, gesturing for Hannibal to come in. 

 

     Hannibal graciously does so, hiding any signs of being displeased at the parade of dogs that circle his legs. He spots the kitchen, walking towards it and placing the pot onto the table. Will flicks the light on, watching Hannibal as he peels away at his layers of coats and scarves.

 

     Will stood clad in his robe, not sure of what to say or do. He feels as though he's in a parallel of the well put together psychiatrist. He turns to Will once he set his coat over a dining chair, "I assumed you haven't eaten a good meal in a while, so I heated some leftovers and-" 

 

     "How did you find my house?" Will interrupts, not necessarily angry but also still not in favor of the doctor. Hannibal sighs just quiet enough to go unheard, "Jack had wanted me to check up on you, if I am to be completely honest." Will felt a flare of agitation spike up in his chest, hating how everyone views him as a petulant child in need of 'check up's. 

 

     "Well, I'm fine. I don't need anyone's pity or worrying." he feels compelled to make the man leave his home, returning back out into the chill night with his pot of whatever. Hannibal seems to expect this, apologizing again as he begins gathering his coat. Will steps forward, placing a hand on Hannibal's wrist to halt him.

 

     "....Thank you, Doctor." Hannibal smiles, allowing his coat to fall slack on the chair. He didn't pull his hand away from Will's hold, gesturing with his other for him to sit down. Will finally let's go, moving towards his cabinets to retrieve some plates and cutlery. 

 

     "Just cups, please, I brought everything else." Will is mildly surprised, but does as he is told, grabbing two mismatched mugs from the crooked cabinet. He sets them on the table, feeling embarrassed as Hannibal begins pulling out matching plates that look far too fancy for Will's cracked mugs and shabby wooden table. 

 

     Once Hannibal sets up the silver forks and knives, he sets aside the bag he had them in and opens the pot. A strong aroma of meat and spices fills Will's nostrils, and his stomach instantly growls. Hannibal chuckles lightly, "I am glad to know your appetite is accompanying you." 

 

     Will smiles, trying not to appear awkward as he sits down and stares at Hannibal's hands at work. He artistically pours the meaty stew-like dish onto the plate, adding just a bit more before placing it in front of Will. He wants to eat it immediately, but mentally scolds himself to wait. 

 

     "This smells delicious." he compliments, taking a fork in hand once Hannibal sets his own plate down. He bends down slightly, grabbing something from his bag on the floor. He sets a tall bottle of crimson wine onto the table. Will raises his brows, looking up at the doctor then back at the wine, "What's the special occasion?" he asks. 

 

     "A good meal should always be accompanied by a fine wine." Will laughs lightly, feeling largely out of place in his own kitchen. "I'll be honest with you, I haven't had a meal like since...for as long as I can remember, actually." Hannibal looks down at Will, smiling as he uncaps the corked bottle with no struggle. 

 

     "I am excited to see what you think of my cooking, Will. I hope it is up to your tastes." he pours the wine into the two mugs, hiding his distaste at the hideous ceramics that surely cost much less than the liquid they now hold. He beckons for Will to take the first bite with a roll of his wrist once he sits down. 

 

     The meat is unlike any Will has ever tasted before, it was juicy and exploding with flavors. He nearly burns his mouth, not wanting to wait to eat more. "This is amazing," he said around big bites, the grumble of his stomach encouraging him to eat more. Hannibal smiles proudly, taking a small bite for himself. 

 

     "What meat is this?" Will asks once he finally takes a break from shoveling the food into his mouth. Hannibal reaches for his mug, taking a sip of wine before replying, "Rabbit. I enjoy hunting and couldn't let the meat go to waste." Will raises his brows once more, pleasantly surprised.

 

     "I didn't take you for the hunting type. Do you only hunt small game?" Hannibal smiles coyly from behind his mug, "I prefer much bigger targets." Will takes a sip from his own, "Bears? Deer?" Hannibal nods, "Of that sort, yes." 

 

     Will finally looks up at Hannibal, almost taken aback by his features. Something about the atmosphere makes him look different, his deep eyes and protruding cheekbones appearing more welcoming under the dimmed kitchen lamp that hung above them as opposed to the harsh office ceiling lights. The first word that came to Will's mind when he looked at Hannibal now was handsome. 

 

     Hannibal stares back at Will, his eyes darting to his bare chest that peaked through his loosened robe. Will doesn't seem to notice, or maybe he does, as he takes the last bite of his meal. He isn't sure if it has just started or if he didn't notice earlier, but a harsh hail storm began outside. 

 

     "It's getting cold in here, do you want me to start up a flame in the fireplace? Of course that is if you're not in a rush to get home, it's getting late." Will laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. The short length of their dinner has left Will softened in the light of intimacy. Hannibal smiles, "Please, of course. I'll wait out the storm." 

 

     Will compliments the meal and wine again, thanking Hannibal for it as he heads to the living room to start the fire. Hannibal begins washing the dishes as Will works on the fireplace, placing some logs he had chopped and ready into its brick mouth. He grabs some paper from the old pile of newspapers beside him, crumbling them up and tossing them over the logs. He strikes his match, setting the papers on fire. 

 

     Something about the domestic touch to the scene leaves Will feeling odd. He hasn’t actually been in a relationship for years, and even though he’d never dare test the boundaries between he and Hannibal in fear of what could happen, the mere thought of a friendship wasn’t so uneasy with him anymore. Will has always recognized his attraction to other men, but acting out on it was something he couldn’t take a risk of unless he was absolutely certain the other man felt the same. Risking something like that was always scary, not knowing what could happen to his career if others would find out. 

 

     The only people that know of this are Alana and Beverly. Neither of them were opposed to it, especially since Alana herself was interested in the same sex. There was never a certain situation that led to them knowing about one another’s sexualities, it was more of a thing you could sense. One day, Alana had casually told Will of her girlfriend after having a few beers in his rickety home. Will wasn’t surprised, but even then he was a little scared to tell Alana that he was interested in men. 

 

     As for Beverly, Will confessed to her after his last relationship with a man ended in a fractured cheekbone and black eye. He lied at first, telling her he had gotten into a brawl in a diner parking lot. She knew better, pressing him until he whispered the true reason in a shaky breath. She had hugged him then, apologizing profusely and swearing to never tell a soul. Since then, Will has been close friends with the two women, relying on them heavily and them doing the same in tough times.

      Will was brought out of his fond memories when the presence of Hannibal was felt. He stood up from his crouching position, turning to see Hannibal watching him from the entrance. “Sorry for staring, you looked deep in thought.” Will smiled dryly, still not keen on the idea of being observed by a psychiatrist. He tries his best to avoid those kinds of people. “I was. Did you wash the dishes? You didn’t have to-” Hannibal took a step forward, “No, it is fine. I did come here on a whim with my own meal, it would be rude of me to make you clean the aftermath.” Will has no room to argue, gesturing for Hannibal to take a seat on the small sofa as he pulls up a wooden chair next to it for himself. 

 

     It was then he realizes Hannibal is holding the mugs, having refilled them with wine. He hands one to Will, who takes it graciously before sitting down. Hannibal sits next to him on the sofa, Will finding it comical how much he sinks into it. They sit in silence for a while, watching the fire crackle as it radiates heat to their faces. 

 

     “I really do apologize, Will, for making you uncomfortable the first two times we met. I don't want you to dislike me, I find you very...interesting.” Will could tell Hannibal wanted to mention the episode he had earlier, explain what he saw, but the man didn’t press and Will is thankful for it. 

 

     “Interesting...like a patient.” he says bluntly, sounding more bitter than he intended. He could feel Hannibal’s eyes monitoring his expression. “Not at all. I simply am intrigued by you. Like I had said before, I have heard many wonderful things about your abilities. It’s unfortunate I have to wait a week to see your mind in action.” Will feels relieved.

 

     “I admit, I am curious to see how you work in a crime scene as well. It’s not so easy analyzing something that lacks a heartbeat.” Hannibal grinned, “Then I’m sure we will get along well in our work field.” Will let them fall back into silence, wanting to ask questions about Hannibal’s childhood and how different Lithuania is from America, but he holds back for now.

 

     Time has passed, and Will notices to his displeasure that the hail storm subsided. “The storm has calmed and it’s really late now. I’m sorry you had to drive so far.” Hannibal shook his head, staring down into his empty mug before looking back up to Will. “The pleasure is mine.” Will can feel his face begin to heat, and not just from the fire. 

 

     He ushers Hannibal out of the living room, taking his mug for him and placing it in the sink as the other puts on his winter gear. Hannibal picks up all his things except for the half empty wine bottle, “Save it for yourself, please.” Will thanks him, almost refusing but thinking Hannibal would insist anyway. They stood by the front door, Will feeling awkward and at a loss of words. 

 

     “I...had a good time. Thank you, Doctor.” 

    

      “Please, call me Hannibal. I enjoyed myself as well. Your company is much appreciated, I hope we can do this again soon.” Will nods, “Any time you want to is fine by me.” Hannibal's smile widens. “Perhaps I should invite you over to my home. How about next week, does Saturday suit you?”

 

     “That sounds great actually, thank you, I’ll be there... Uhm, would you mind me asking your telephone?” Will felt too eager, but Hannibal didn’t seem to mind. He recited the number, knowing Will could memorize it easily. The air between them felt warm, and Will caught himself leaning closer to Hannibal on impulse. 

 

     He takes a step back, opening the door for him and bracing against the cold. Hannibal takes a step out, turning back to Will with a sly smirk that caught him off guard. "Perhaps I should wear a robe as well the next time we meet?" Will's eyes widened as he looks down, unaware that his robe was open, revealing a bare chest and loose undergarments. 

 

     His face is surely blushing by now, and Hannibal looks amused by the effect of his words. "Goodnight, Will." is the last thing he says before disappearing into the pitch black night. Will watches as Hannibal's head lights turn on, dimmed by the flurries of snow and hail.

 

     The engine eventually grows faint until it is unheard. Will closes his door and locks it, leaning against it with an exasperated sigh. Something about Hannibal's presence left him exhilarated, and he feels impatient at the thought of waiting nearly a week to see him again. 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love it when cute stories slowly turn corrupted and disturbing


	3. Garret Jacob Hobbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Will is on his forced vacation, Hannibal intervenes and solves the Hobbs case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (HEADS UP: I'm positive there's a few spelling errors since spell check kinda disappeared I'm not sure how to get it back but I will!) This chapter isn't super eventful along the lines of Will and Hannibal's relationship, but don't you worry that's all going to start unfolding in the next chapter and there on after! I hope you enjoy the chapter~ xoxo

The temporary job dismissal had Will bored out of his wits. He would drive on sleepless nights after a nightmare had startled him awake and drenched in sweat; the intoxicating embrace of sleep lingering in his relaxing muscles as he drove miles and miles on long stretches of pitch black asphalt. He wouldn’t stop to drive back home until the sun was peeking just over the horizon in the outskirts of Baltimore.

    He had visited Beverly once that week, on a Wednesday.

    She had telephoned him just after work, flustered and upset about a man who informed her of her ‘rightful duties’ as a woman. She had always been repulsed by the idea of being a housewife and cooking meals for a man, staying home while he lay open to new experiences every day. It was extremely rare to see a woman in the workfield after World War II had ended; the women that had just gotten keen to their new responsibilities of hard work  and independence were forced back into the foul genderoles.

    Will sympathized with her, anger tinged in his nerves as he had clenched his fists, asking who the man was. Beverly informed him that it was a stranger, seeing her walk from the FBI building, and apparently disliking her duties as a working woman. Will felt that on some level, this is part of why Beverly is so accepting of his sexuality. She knows the feeling of being limited, being disrespected and in danger constantly simply by being oneself. Similar to how Will deals with the dangers of being a gay man in this day and age. Although, luckily for him, his sexuality is something he can hide, so he is not nearly in the same position as Beverly or any other woman in this time.  

    Sudden memories, drenched with an acrid taste of his hatred for the war, resurfaced in Will’s mind often when he focused on his sexuality. The kisses that were shared between men that longed for intimacy as they sat, cramped and wounded in those god forsaken trenches. The whispers and assumptions of which men were ‘diseased’ and hated by god for their love interests. It was a dangerous game even in times of urgency and desperation, but many men had experienced this feeling, that kiss or embrace, that strike of romantic interest, as they bid their time in trenches and tents together.

    Will felt exceedingly bitter upon remembering his own experiences in war, not wanting to pivot on the temporary lover who had filled Will’s hands with his blood of a dying breath just as he filled Will’s heart with compassion. The flaw of attachment is overbearing, one Will has mastered to burn from every fiber of his being since then.

    Hannibal’s face surfaces behind his closed lids. The image unsettles him, bringing light to his night terrors. This perturb trace of sharp cheekbones and sunken eyes has welcomed Will before, reached his boney and elegant fingers to him as an offering of partnership. One that requires the crack of bone marrow and taste of fresh blood as it coated his tongue.

    Will is startled from the depths of his thoughts as Jack slams a thick stack of papers onto the desk he sits at. He already knows what they are, eager to read the information they hold.

    "We solved the case of serial murders." Will's neck pops from how quickly he looks up from his focus on the coffee stained table, "You what?"

    Jack looks like a mix of pride and sympathy, sitting up more and leaning in to focus on Will. "Hannibal solved it. Beverly found a scrap of metal on the first victim’s body and he evaluated it. He suggested the scrap yard out East." Will is having trouble taking this all in, imagining Hannibal leading the team to the man who slaughtered all those girls.

    "Who...did it?" he asks shakily. Although he’s both relieved and shaken, he still craves for the solace of finding out who turned Cassie Boyle's body into a barbarous shrine. He longs to place the cuffs tightly and painfully around the murderer's wrists..

    "Garrett Jacob Hobbs. He was a worker at the scrap yard, had a wife and-"

    "Had." Will interrupts. His voice sounds similar to a question but there's an undertone that shows he knows what happened. He doesn't speak for a few moments, trying to piece together what it would have been like to witness his capture. "Once we cornered him, he killed his wife then attempted to slit his daughter's throat. She's still in the hospital."

    Will closes his eyes, picturing himself as the one who broke into Garrett's home, trigger snug behind his index finger as the muscles in his hands twitched. He watched the life leave the eyes of the wife, saw as terror took over every fiber of the daughter's being as the cold metal sliced through the thin flesh of her neck.

    "Where is he?" he asks finally, voice cold and barely audible. Jack sighs through his nose, answering the question merely by his body language. "Got shot nine times." Will cringes, feeling the cold metal move under his finger as he pushes the trigger back one...two...nine times. He wonders what Hannibal's expression was if he witnessed the scene unfold before him. Did he look shocked, scared, surprised? Will finds it hard to visualize him with any emotions at all.

    "Just...take it easy in that mind of yours, okay? I brought Hannibal into this facility for more than one reason..." Will doesn't like the insinuation that he needs therapy, ignores it as he says nothing and stands from his chair maladroitly. He walks quickly out of Jack's office, breaths shallowing. He feels out of control, as if not solving a case soon will only dig himself deeper into his cast of unease.

    Will stares at his sleepy reflection, bending down to splash his face with cold water. The bathroom in the office is lacking a few lights, the dim atmosphere making Will's dark eye circles appear more purple and apparent. The door creaks open as he reaches for a paper towel. Hannibal is in his reflection, stopping abruptly to observe Will's state.

    "I assume you found out about Garrett Jacob Hobbs." Will nods numbly, looking at Hannibal's reflection behind him rather than turning to face the taller man. "Nine times...Did you see it?" Hannibal observes Will, taking a few steps closer. "I didn't watch him die, but I witnessed the aftermath." Will can see Hannibal's crimson reflection as blood pooled from Garrett's body.

    "You wish you were the one who had ended his life." Will doesn't question how he knows, doesn't press the matter. Something about Hannibal's quizzical glances makes him look unctuous. It's like he knows how to pull every string just right, how to cut Will open and poke through his insides.

    The sensation is odious, a feeling of both arousal and hatred. The softness Hannibal presented to him last Monday in his home was warm and welcoming, much unlike the cascade he shadows over himself in the working environment. As though reading his thoughts, Hannibal steps just barely closer.

    "Are you still interested in coming to my home on Saturday? I apologize I had to ring you and move our...meeting a week back. I was unfortunately occupied by an unexpected event." Will is thankful that Hannibal didn't use the word appointment, although he oddly expected him to address their dinner as a date.

    Will nods, "I would like that, yes." Hannibal smiles, a feather touch gracing Will's shoulder as he places his hand there. "I'm sure a gruesome crime will come to ease your discomfort soon." Will felt the ghost of a smile pull at the corners of his lips. Something about that openness Hannibal gave him made him comfortable, nearly leaning into the touch before knowing better and staying still. He awkwardly parts  ways, giving Hannibal a small nod and trips on his way out of the restroom.

    Will entertained his tastebuds with a bitter cup of black coffee, grimacing as a few remaining grinds scraped against his teeth and tongue. He washed them down with another piping gulp, sneaking into Jack’s office to grab the stack of papers that still lay there before calling it quits for the day. He did most of his work at home anyway.

    ***

    Friday has finally arrived and Will feels slightly more upbeat as he looks forward to visiting Hannibal tomorrow. He’s curious as to where the man lives, can already picture the deep colors that fill his elegant home. The office is a blur of freshly printed papers and phone calls once he enters. The familiarity could only mean one thing: a new case. Will feels a mixture of eagerness and bitterness, not even reaching Jack’s office before the man himself is bursting from the room with new stress lines creased into his face.

    “He’s back.” is all he says, but Will doesn’t need to hear more. He knows who Jack is referring to as the images of antlers piercing a young girl’s body flash behind every blink of his eyes. “Where is the crime scene?” he asks, following Jack’s hurried steps as they leave the building and squeeze into a police vehicle. “We’re going to meet Dr. Lecter there, it’s just outside Baltimore.”

    

    

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I make up some crime cases or stick to the ones in the show?? I kinda wanna make my own so I don't stick too close to the series. Anyway, thank you so much for reading! xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> if you wish to contact me, please do so through my tumblr @haniwills (-:


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